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Watching Faith

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Summary: A selection of incidents, as told by Faith's, initially slightly pompous, new watcher. Some violence (mostly to non-humans) and some sexual content in later chapters.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Stargate > Faith-CenteredknowregretsFR1834,9844315,96215 Jun 0622 Jun 06No

Meeting Faith

Disclaimer: none of this is mine.

AN: This is a short, background chapter, most of them will be longer. The crossover will start in chapter two or three. This is my first BTVS fic, my first Stargate fic and my first crossover - please be kind to me!

Additional note: I'm British, narrator is British, spelling is British. If this bothers you, I'm sorry but I actually can't spell American English so I'm afraid you will either have to cope with it or don't read it, your choice.




I've heard the rumours, of course. I'll be the fourth Watcher Faith has had in the last year alone. I know that after the fall of Sunnydale she went to set up the new offices near the baby hellmouth in Cleveland with Robin Wood, her (at that time) lover but since their split, she has been acting as a roving US slayer, going through watchers like they are going out of fashion.

It's debatable whether Faith or Buffy counts as the longest surviving slayer. Everyone always assumes it's Buffy but, truthfully, Buffy didn't last much over a year before dieing the first time. Faith hasn't died yet, but her coma and spell in gaol probably count against her, time wise. Either way, I know she is one of the best at what she does; and the newer slayers respect her (even if they do fear her a bit too). On the face of it, seems ideal for her role, supporting the local US slayers and trouble shooting. The only downside is, she cannot keep a Watcher.

I was surprised to get this assignment, to be honest. I thought Mr Giles would want someone more experienced. I'm not of a Watcher family, I only found out about the hidden night life of the world a year ago when I was approached by an associate of Mr Giles who had been scouring universities for people with the right knowledge in a desperate attempt to rebuild their numbers, replacing all those who had died with enough people to help out the several hundred new slayers now appearing throughout the world.

I figured I'd get a junior assignment to start with. I only finished my Ph.D. last year (the Occult Influence on the Development of Indo-European Languages). If I knew then what I know now ... well, suffice it to say, I would have ripped up my thesis and started from scratch. So I thought I'd be a Junior Watcher in a city where several Slayers lived, or that they'd keep me at headquarters - there's some really fascinating sounding work on cross-pollination of demon and human languages that was lost when the old council building went kaboom that it'd be fun to try and re-create (I'm a little geek-like - sue me).

When I heard Faith needed another new Watcher, I assumed that they'd send someone with way more experience, not to mention a working knowledge of US geography - about which I know diddley-squat, apart from New York is somewhere on the right and LA somewhere on the left. Oh and Alaska is big and empty and hangs off the side of Canada, while Florida dangles off the bottom somewhere. Not the most practical of knowledge I grant you. I have been to America once before, New York actually. I was twelve and spent practically the whole time in various museums. Somehow I don't think that experience will come in handy either.

Still, I have a map, a driving licence, passport and Council credit card good for plane fares. We will somehow navigate our way to where we want to be, of that I'm sure. If only I had any confidence at all that I knew what I was doing.

I couldn't help but ask Mr Giles why on earth he chose me for this, but his answers were not terribly illuminating, to be honest. Apparently he thought someone younger might "relate" to Faith better - how long did he spend living in America again? He has either been infected or he has, hitherto unsuspected, hippy roots. His only other comment was that I was reasonably athletic and could handle weapons with passable skill. Needless to say I was hardly buoyed up by this less than effusive praise.

So here I am, jet-lagged and (if I'm honest) slightly hung-over. Somewhere in a strange country where people seem to speak a form of the English language I am familiar with only through film and television. Meeting a girl who, despite being barely an inch taller than me could, probably literally, kick my arse straight back to England without breaking a sweat.

"I don't have the best luck with Watchers," she tells me calmly. "Three have died, I tortured one, boinked another and the others have run off home with tails between their legs."

To be honest I'm not sure how to respond to this statement. Still, it's not like I didn't know this already. I shrug and reply, "Well if you can promise to neither 'boink' or torture me, I'll promise not to run away and we'll just have to keep our fingers crossed on not dieing thing."
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